Palm to Palm
by Avengers-x-Ace-Reader
Summary: Bucky Barnes x Reader. Bucky's arm malfunctions and he and the reader get stuck holding hands for a little. Fluff. All stories gender neutral as possible! One shot. I can't believe Bucky isn't a selectable character on here!


"I don't understand how this happened, honestly." Tony scratched his head with a screwdriver, and looked over at Natasha. "Are you _sure_ you didn't get him with one of those little electric zappers of yours?"

"I'm sure." Natasha said flatly, and handed Bucky a bottle of water. "Stop making excuses and work, Tony."

Tony whined something under his breath, and ducked to avoid Natasha and Steve's simultaneous glares. Bucky just looked at you and shrugged with one shoulder, his metal arm immobile as he drank the water.

You flexed and wiggled your fingers to see if you could get your hand free from Bucky's once more, just in case. But nothing happened, and the older man's metal fingers remained unmoveable. It was a good thing that Natasha had had the idea to use hand cream to make sure your efforts didn't rub your hand raw, as even with using it your skin was starting to feel tender.

It had been a normal enough mission until the bridge you had been on that morning had been shot out from under you. Bucky had barely been able to grab onto your hand and prevent you from falling, as the section you were on had disintegrated before you could move. He had pulled you up and the two of you had jumped onto the wing of the Quinjet to escape the collapsing bridge, but something had hit his arm and shut it down. Bucky had still been holding your hand though, and now you were stuck with him in Tony's workshop as the billionaire and resident mechanic tried to figure out what was wrong.

"You want a magazine or something, (Name)?" Tony asked as he brought up the rough blueprints he had made from scanning Bucky's prosthetic shortly after Steve had first brought the dark haired man into the Avengers' lives. "This is gonna take a while."

"Sure." You said, and caught the _Automotive Monthly_ that Natasha tossed at you.

The other Avengers filtered in and out of Tony's workshop as the day went by, and you started to yawn so much that your eyes began to tear up a little as the evening dragged on. You had discarded the magazine hours ago, and the adrenaline from the morning had officially worn away. As tired as you were, you were trying not to fidget too much as Bucky seemed unaffected. He had barely moved or spoken since the two of you had sat down, and only Steve had been able to engage him in conversation so far.

You yawned again, and your jaw cracked audibly.

"Sorry." You whispered to Bucky, when he glanced at you. "It's been a long day."

"You can lean on me." He said after a long silence, and you blinked a few times.

"Are you sure you don't mind?" You asked, looking from his face to his immobile steel shoulder.

"It's fine."

As best as you could with your hand still stuck in his, you rested against the cool metal of his shoulder and closed your eyes. The grooves weren't as deep as they looked, and it was more comfortable than you were expecting. It helped that beyond the shoulder Bucky was warm and breathing at an even and soothing pace.

The next thing you knew, Tony was shaking your shoulder gently.

"Come on, wake up there (Name)." He said. There were dark circles under his eyes, but he was grinning. "Get off the six million dollar man so I can get you two separated."

Blinking groggily you let Tony help you sit up so that the he could get to Bucky's arm. He stuck a pair of goggles onto your face, and you shuffled over so that you weren't as close to the sparks that were starting to fly as Tony got to work.

After fifteen minutes or so Bucky's hand suddenly opened, and his arm made a grinding metallic whir. You pulled your hand away, and stretched your cramped fingers as Tony whooped and sat back.

"All fixed!" He said, twirling the little soldering iron with a smug smile. "I'll let you thank me profusely later, so we can all get some sleep."

You stretched, and winced when your back popped a few times. Bucky was moving his arm in a series of movements that were obviously meant to check if the functions were back to normal, and he nodded with stoic satisfaction after a minute. He readjusted the straps of his tank top that had been pulled out of the way by Tony, and paused for a minute before hesitantly putting his steel palm against his cheek.

Puzzled, you stayed where you were and when Bucky met your eyes he seemed thoughtful.

"What is it?" You asked.

"It's warm." He said simply, and got up and left.

.~.

A few days later you were in the shooting range practicing with the basic handgun that Natasha and Clint were training you to use, when you noticed Bucky hanging around. He didn't usually loiter; he either made use of a room or left. Determined to not let him distract you, you continued with the target you had set up and didn't set down your gun until you had finished the exercise.

Knowing he was there had thrown off your aim after all, and you sighed at the holes that were well away from where they should have been. Natasha was going to give you hell for such a sloppy showing.

You put the equipment away, and headed to the door where Bucky was leaning. He was wearing a simple tshirt, and was without his usual gloves on either hand. Just in case he was waiting to use the range, you nodded politely at him and went through the door. Bucky followed you, and walked along on your left side without saying anything.

"Um." You said, smiling. "What's up?"

He shrugged but he kept pace with you, so the two of you walked in silence while you waited for him to say whatever was on his mind. When you came to the end of the hall Bucky stopped, cleared his throat, and glanced at you.

"I would like to hold your hand again." He said, and you almost laughed at how blunt and straight forward he was. He really wasn't one to waste words.

"Sure." You remembered the look on his face when he had felt the warmth last time, and smiled a little crookedly. "But you're standing on the wrong side."

Bucky flexed his metal hand, before he shook his head slightly. He held his right hand out with a cautious expression, palm up and his fingers curled slightly.

"No. It's better to share. Right?"

Realizing what he meant, you blushed and took his offered hand. His palm was calloused, and even though it was flesh and blood it felt nearly as strong as his other hand. It was much nicer to hold though, and you gave it the slightest squeeze.

"It's warm." You told him with a grin, and his split second smile was the best reaction you could have hoped for.


End file.
